The Bridesmaid Pact

The Bridesmaid Pact Julia Williams One for all and all for one…As children, Sarah, Dorrie, Beth and Caz were inseparable and vowed to one day be each others bridesmaids. But life got complicated. Now they have one last chance to fulfil their promise.Dorrie is planning her ultimate Disney wedding to the delicious Darren and is determined to have her friends back together for the Big Day. But Dorrie's fairytale is not all that it seems…Beth is desperate for a baby and is starting to resent her more fertile friends. Is a mistake from her past about to destroy her future?Caz’s wild streak has tested her friendships over the years. One by one she has let her friends down, not least when she commits the ultimate betrayal to Susan. Can she change her ways and more to the point, does she really want to?Married to Steve, Sarah is plagued by doubts that she went down the wrong path. Does Sarah have the strength to make a change and will she ever be able to forgive Caz?As Dorrie's big day dawns, all eyes are on whether the ultimate act of friendship will be honoured and obeyed…Praise for The Bridesmaid Pact‘ It will have you laughing one moment and in tears the next… It is very moving and very warm which is why I enjoyed it so much.’ – The Bookbag‘Just a fantastic read.’ – Chloe’s Chick Lit Reviews The Bridesmaid Pact Julia Williams Copyright (#ulink_3a7861a3-9134-54d5-a958-d9c293ecec8f) Published by AVON A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2010 This eBook edition published 2018 Copyright © Julia Williams 2010 Cover design © Lizzie Gardiner Designs 2018 Cover illustration © Shutterstock Julia Williams asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9781847560872 Ebook Edition © May 2018 ISBN: 9780007371730 Version: 2018-05-18 For Karen, who was as bright and beautiful Contents Cover (#uaa37a0ae-e5ed-5ac4-8443-c67b150f0015) Title Page (#u6902b81d-f8a9-5dbb-a8fd-9afa5b15e29b) Copyright (#u88bb1b98-34cb-565f-bee3-35f4dc1f74e0) Dedication (#u036b4c96-d5a4-5e8b-b86e-1f0f6050c7d7) Prologue Sarah (#ub5d3de12-dfdd-5024-83c6-2875315558e4) Part One To Have and to Hold (#ubb681c11-286a-5ed0-8161-44b6a6e542d7) Chapter One (#u160d0d47-ee93-5a24-ab76-34ac8ff16200) Chapter Two (#u216922ff-23f2-5081-92dd-3086d47a9ddb) Chapter Three (#u626cb030-0ef5-5432-ba29-dfab21861d7e) Chapter Four (#u6c1e1de1-4ba4-510d-a784-e7084aa6592e) Chapter Five (#u16323e84-d01c-5e2d-89a0-23fc96f886f9) Chapter Six (#ud928f852-302e-5e91-a72d-dace3f33aed6) Chapter Seven (#ue7e21799-0aae-5d35-9743-d5ba342821d2) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Part Two For Better, for Worse (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Part Three In Sickness and in Health (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo) Part Four Till Death do Us Part (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Things To Avoid On Your Wedding (#litres_trial_promo) Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo) About the Author (#litres_trial_promo) By the Same Author (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) Prologue Sarah (#ulink_89d99023-4d43-5a44-8580-0e8e69ae70f5) July 1981 It was Doris’s idea of course. Back then, everything tended to emanate from Doris. Beautiful, dappy, gorgeous Doris, with her brown ringlets, blue eyes, infectious giggle, and cute American accent. She was the glue that bound us all together. Like Sid the sloth in Ice Age, Dorrie was the sticky stuff that kept us together. Without Doris we were nothing. And even then we knew it. ‘It’s on, it’s on,’ she said, proudly brandishing the control of her parents’ state of the art Beta Max video machine. Though of course we didn’t say state of the art then. Nor did we realize that Doris’s parents, ahead of the trends as ever, had invested in a bit of technology that was going to be obsolete in a few short years. At eight years old, we were still marvelling at the idea of being able to watch our favourite TV moment of the year, again and again. And I was still pinching myself that I had been allowed to enter the inner sanctum of Dorrie’s vast mansion. Ever since she’d arrived at our school from America, like some exotic creature from another planet, Dorrie had fascinated me. I had longed to be welcomed into her life and now here I was. ‘Go straight to the kiss,’ Caz demanded, her dark eyes bright and concentrated, her hands thrust into her pointy chin, while her dark scrappy hair flopped over her face. She was always the most impatient one. ‘No, we have to watch it all,’ Beth was most emphatic on that point. Her serious, pale little face peeped up between two dark plaits. ‘I didn’t get to see it because my mum and dad are anti-royalsomething.’ ‘Royalist,’ interjected Doris. ‘They don’t like the Queen,’ said Beth. ‘So I wasn’t allowed to watch any of it.’ Silently we were all amazed at this. All term we’d talked about nothing but the wedding, about what she’d wear and who the bridesmaids would be. We’d even had a day off school to watch it – Doris’s mum and dad had taken her up to London and they’d camped outside St Paul’s Cathedral and seen her go into the church and everything – and poor Beth hadn’t seen any of it. ‘Lucky Mom and Dad videoed it then, isn’t it?’ said Doris. ‘Now sssshhh.’ We all settled down on the beanbags and cushions, stifling giggles as we passed popcorn to one another in the room that Doris’s American professor dad called the den. Doris’s house was like nothing the rest of us had ever seen. We all lived in the suburban centre of Northfields, near our school, whereas Doris lived on the more countrified and posher side of town. Her parents had money but believed in state education, and as our school had the best reputation in the area, they’d sent her there. You had to walk down a gravelly drive before you arrived at a massive house with ornate pillars, and a vast oak front door. The lounge was so big it could have fitted the whole of the downstairs of my house in, and the dining room had a table that seated twenty. And Doris’s dad had his own games room in the basement as well as a study, from where he would absentmindedly emerge from time to time to ask us how we were doing. Upstairs were five or six bedrooms and en suite bathrooms for every bedroom. Imagine that. Even Doris had one. For me who shared a tiny suburban three-bedroomed semi with my parents and two much older brothers, it seemed like a fairy palace. I still couldn’t believe I was here. Doris was the most popular girl in the class. I had been thrilled when she chose me to be part of her gang. Being Doris, she’d generously allowed me to bring my best mate, Caz, along too and, together with Beth, the four of us were developing into firm friends. It would have been easy to hate her, with her ringletted beauty, her film star mother, clever professor father, and her amazing house, but somehow, it was impossible to dislike Doris. She was kind and generous and funny, and hid her cleverness (inherited from her father) under a carefully cultivated dizzy blondeness – except of course, she wasn’t blonde. I was the blonde one and frequently felt at a disadvantage to the other three who always seemed to be quicker and cleverer than I was. The posh voice of the commentator was describing the guests as they arrived and pointing out Prince Charles waiting with Prince Andrew for Diana to arrive. We all oohed and aahed as the carriages pulled up bearing the Queen and Prince Philip. ‘I have to have that dress when I’m a bridesmaid next year for my Auntie Sophie in Switzerland.’ Doris paused the tape so we could ogle the bridesmaids, who to our eight-year-old minds just looked perfect in their ivory white dresses, with puffy sleeves, full-out skirts and pale gold sashes. The little ones had flowers in their hair, and I longed for a pair of pretty white shoes just like theirs. After some critical discussion, we all agreed that Doris was much prettier than India Hicks (our favourite bridesmaid), and would suit the dress better. It never even occurred to me to think about any of us wearing the dress. ‘Why is it always you?’ Caz burst out furiously. Her untidy black hair tumbled over her dark eyes, and two bright points of red flamed her cheeks, her attitude spiky and pugnacious, as ever. ‘Why can’t the rest of us get to wear that dress? Just because you’re rich and we’re not!’ ‘That’s not fair!’ Doris leapt up and shouted. ‘Don’t I always let you have my stuff and invite you over?’ ‘So you can feel good,’ spat back Caz, eyes blazing, ready as ever to take on the world. ‘I know you only have me here because you feel sorry for me.’ ‘That’s not true,’ said Beth, timidly. Ever the peacemaker, she could never bear any of us fighting. ‘Caz, I think you should say sorry.’ As Caz’s best friend, I felt duty bound to take her part, though I didn’t think she was being fair either. As the prettiest, richest one of us, and the only one who was going to actually be a bridesmaid, I felt that Doris was quite within her rights to lay first claim to India Hicks’s dress. I might have felt jealous of someone else, but I couldn’t feel jealous of Doris, who generously shared all that she had with us. I had only just become accepted into her circle and I was loath to do anything to get me ejected from it. But Caz and I had been friends from the first day of St Philomena’s primary school, when something about her uncared-for appearance tapped into my innate need to look after people. I had to stick up for her. ‘Doris, you do usually take charge,’ I said reluctantly. Like Beth, I always hated confrontation. And a part of me seethed that just as I’d got to being accepted by Doris, here was Caz trying to muck it up for me again. As she always did. I loved Caz to bits, but why did she have to be so angry all the time? ‘Do I?’ Doris looked stricken, her blue eyes filling with tears, and I felt even worse. ‘Gee, I don’t mean to. I’m really sorry, Caz, I didn’t mean to upset you.’ Seeing her lower lip begin to quiver, and tears dangerously start to wobble down her cheeks, Caz softened uncharacteristically. Perhaps even hard as nails Caz couldn’t resist Doris’s charm. ‘It’s OK,’ she said sulkily. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you either.’ Relieved that everything had gone back to normal, Doris ran to the huge kitchen and produced ice creams for us all as we settled down to watch Diana finally emerge from her carriage, arranging the voluminous train as it blew in the wind, to more oohs and aahs and squeals from the four of us. She stood up to go up the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral and we squealed some more, as the dress was revealed in all its puffed-sleeve, huge-skirted glory. ‘That dress,’ I breathed, ‘is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ ‘She’s just like a fairy princess,’ said Beth. ‘It’s so romantic,’ I said. ‘I hope my wedding day is like that.’ ‘I’m going to have that dress when I get married,’ announced Doris solemnly. ‘I think she looks like a marshmallow,’ said Caz, who didn’t have a romantic bone in her body. ‘How can you say that?’ I cried. ‘This is just like a fairytale wedding.’ ‘I don’t believe in fairytales,’ growled Caz. ‘There aren’t any happy endings in real life.’ We all threw our ice cream wrappers at her, and settled down in blissful silence to watch as Charles Windsor took Diana Spencer to be his lawful wedded wife. ‘To have and to hold, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part,’ we chanted in unison. ‘That’s so cute,’ said Doris. ‘I want to marry a prince when I grow up.’ ‘Me too,’ said Beth earnestly, fiddling with her plaits. ‘I believe in happy endings. I’m going to grow up, get married and have lots of children, so there.’ Caz snorted, so we sat on her. By now we were getting bored of the video, so Doris fast forwarded to the kiss, which we watched over and over again, ecstatically imagining what it would feel like to have a boy kiss you on the lips like that. I thought it must feel very rubbery. ‘We should make a promise,’ Doris said suddenly. She was like that. Full of odd ideas that seemed to come from nowhere. ‘What, like some kind of pact?’ said Beth. ‘What’s a pact?’ I said. ‘Like a really, really important promise,’ said Beth. ‘That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Dorrie?’ ‘Sure do,’ said Dorrie. ‘We should promise to be friends forever and make a pact that we will be bridesmaids at each other’s weddings.’ ‘I’m never going to get married,’ declared Caz firmly. ‘You can still be a bridesmaid though,’ said Doris. She was impossible to resist, so even Caz was persuaded to stand in a circle with us. We all raised our hands together and held them up so they touched. ‘We solemnly declare,’ intoned Doris, ‘that we four will be friends forever.’ We looked at each other and giggled before reciting after her, ‘And we promise that when we get married we will only have our three friends as bridesmaids. And we promise that we will be bridesmaids for our friends.’ ‘From this day forth, forever and ever, shall this vow be binding,’ said Doris. And then she made us cut a lock off our hair, and bind them together. She put the locks of hair, two dark, one light brown, and one fair together with a signed written copy of the words we’d solemnly declared in her special jewellery box. ‘There,’ she said, with satisfaction. ‘Now we’ve taken an oath and we can never ever break it.’ Part One To Have and to Hold (#ulink_168a90b1-f338-5235-9f01-a18a15d3d54e) Caz December 1995 ‘Have you heard the news?’ Dorrie came bursting into the champagne bar at Kettner’s, where Sarah and I were tucking into a bottle of champagne to celebrate her engagement. I was glad to see Dorrie. The tension between Sarah and me these days was nigh on unbearable. I thought she was making a terrible mistake, but when I said as much she accused me of jealousy. I couldn’t fault her on that, I was jealous that Steve had chosen her not me, but I still thought she’d regret marrying him. As it was Christmas, the bar was heaving with partying office workers, and it took Dorrie a while to reach our table. Sarah was on an early shift and had got here first, while the photo shoot I’d been working on had descended into a pre Christmas bash, so I had escaped before I got too plastered and decided Charlie was the thing I needed in my life right now. I had enough complications as it was, I didn’t need to bring him into the equation. ‘Ooh, champagne, lovely,’ said Dorrie, squeezing herself into a spot in the corner. ‘Lucky I’m skinny isn’t it?’ She took off her faux fur black coat, to reveal a polka dot black and white vintage dress, which she’d matched with bright red boots. With her Rachel from Friends haircut and her fabulous figure, it was no wonder that nearly every man in the room turned to look at her. But as usual Dorrie was oblivious to her effect on people. She really had no idea how much people adored her, which was part of her ongoing charm. She soon had Sarah and me in stitches, and any latent resentment festering between us was temporarily forgotten. ‘No Beth yet?’ Dorrie asked. I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I did ask her but she’s been so low since Andy the bastard dumped her, I’m not sure she’ll make it.’ ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ said Dorrie. ‘We should make it our next project to get Beth a man.’ ‘What do you mean, our next project?’ said Sarah suspiciously – Dorrie had a habit of involving us in her schemes to make the whole world happy – flicking back her short fair hair. She always said she wore her hair short because it made work easier, but I rather suspected she’d gone for a Meg Ryan look because Steve fancied the pants off her in When Harry Met Sally. Which was just one of many reasons I thought Sarah was making a big mistake. ‘Doh,’ said Dorrie. ‘The Bridesmaid Pact, remember? You’re the first one to get married, so we all have to be your bridesmaids.’ ‘Don’t I get any say in the matter?’ laughed Sarah. ‘Nope,’ said Dorrie. ‘You said you had some news?’ I said. ‘Oh, yes,’ said Dorrie. ‘Haven’t you heard? It’s all over the papers. Charles and Di are getting divorced. Can you believe it? It’s so sad.’ ‘Er, yes,’ I said. ‘There’s the small matter of his infidelity, her infidelity and all that three people in a marriage stuff. I’m surprised after that Panorama interview the Queen didn’t march Di off to the Tower. All that doe-eyed blinking. They’re as bad as each other.’ ‘Yeah well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ Sarah muttered bitchily. ‘Meaning?’ I said. ‘Meaning I feel sorry for Di,’ said Sarah. She smiled at me sweetly, but there were daggers in her eyes. I was about to retort that some men just couldn’t keep it in their trousers, when Beth pitched up. She looked wan and too thin, as she was wont to do. Her black hair was greasy, and she wore a frumpy grey coat that looked as if it belonged to her mother. My heart sank. She was in such a bad way. I longed to give her a makeover, but I’d tried that once before, and she’d pushed me away. ‘Hi,’ she said, shyly. Even after all this time, Beth was still timid with us. I longed for her to come out of her shell a bit more. It was unlike me to care about someone the way I did about Beth, but something about her vulnerability touched me. Maybe it was my way of feeling superior. People mostly felt sorry for me. It was nice to feel sorry for someone else for a change. ‘Congrats, Sarah. When’s the big day?’ Beth had taken off her coat to reveal a dull blouse with big lapels and a ghastly bow, and a dark skirt, which hung limply from her skinny frame. Damn, it was difficult to sit there and not suggest ways of improving the way she looked, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. A haircut would be a good start. She’d look good in a bob, I thought, though probably not the longish one I sported, which I’d modelled on Uma Thurman’s in Pulp Fiction. She needed to cut those lanky locks into a shortish bob that framed her pretty oval face. ‘Thanks, Beth,’ said Sarah. ‘We haven’t fixed a date yet, but we’re probably going for September ’97.’ ‘Why not next year?’ I said. ‘What’s the delay? Surely you want to get on with it, just in case he changes his mind.’ ‘Caz!’ Beth looked at me shocked. ‘That was a bit mean.’ ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, ‘bit uncalled for.’ Sarah didn’t say anything, and glossed over my bitchy comment with, ‘I just want everything to be perfect.’ ‘Did you see the news?’ said Beth. ‘About Charles and Di?’ said Dorrie. ‘I know. Isn’t it awful?’ ‘Oh come on,’ I laughed. ‘Dorrie, how can you take it so seriously? Two people we don’t know and are never likely to meet are getting divorced. People do it all the time.’ ‘I know,’ said Dorrie, ‘but it was such a fairytale. And now it’s gone wrong.’ ‘It is really sad,’ said Beth. ‘Fairytales, schmairytales,’ I snorted. ‘There’s no such thing as a happy ending.’ ‘Blimey, that’s cynical,’ said Sarah. ‘Even for you.’ ‘Yeah, well,’ I said, ‘I haven’t had the luck some of you’ve had.’ I was overtaken with a sudden feeling of bitterness, and I got up to go to the loo, just to get away for five minutes. In the safety of the toilets, I stared long and hard at myself in the mirror, before leaning back against the cold tiles. I thought about Sarah and Steve and the things I’d promised never to think about again. Why did I always make such a mess of things? And now I was ruining my best friend’s special night. ‘Pull yourself together, girl,’ I admonished myself in the mirror, reapplying my bright red lipstick as a means of boosting my confidence. Face fixed, I went back to meet the world head on. When I got back, a slightly geekish-looking bloke was sitting in my place. He was tall and gangly and wore dark specs, and was mooning over Dorrie, who seemed to be mooning back. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’ I said, squeezing back into the tiny space the guy had left. ‘Oh yes, sorry. Caz, meet Darren. He’s a microbiologist and works in the next lab to mine.’ Dorrie might look like a film star, but she’s actually super bright and has a fantastically clever job in some kind of medical research that I wouldn’t pretend to understand. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Darren. I went to shake his hand, and he pulled it away. ‘Sorry, too many germs,’ he said. ‘Do you know the average person never washes their hands after using the toilet?’ ‘Well I do,’ I snapped. ‘Why don’t you carry antibacterial spray around with you and have done with it?’ ‘I do,’ said Darren. ‘You never know what anyone else has been touching.’ I burst out laughing. ‘Dorrie, your friend is priceless. I shall call him Yakult Man.’ Darren blushed. ‘Don’t mind Caz,’ said Dorrie, ‘she’s not like other folk.’ She touched his arm lightly, and he didn’t pull away. They sat staring at each other for a bit till Sarah, Beth and I felt quite awkward. Eventually, Darren got up. ‘Best be off,’ he mumbled. ‘Places to go and all that. Have a great Christmas. Nice meeting you all.’ He walked away, back to his mates who were at the bar, looking the worse for wear. ‘Is he for real?’ I marvelled. ‘You’ve kept him quiet.’ ‘There’s nothing to keep quiet about,’ protested Doris. ‘He’s a work colleague is all.’ ‘Oh, is he?’ I nudged Doris. Yakult Man hadn’t made it to the bar. He had turned round and was striding purposefully back. ‘You see, the thing is…well…’ he said. ‘Well?’ said Dorrie. ‘Well, I was wondering, if you’re not too busy…I’m sure a gorgeous girl like you has got plenty of dates, but if you hadn’t…’ ‘I haven’t,’ said Doris with a grin. ‘Well. If you haven’t…Did you say you hadn’t?’ ‘Sure did.’ ‘Oh. That’s OK then. It’s all settled. Great.’ He smiled a dopey smile and walked away again. ‘Er, what’s settled?’ she called after him. He stopped and turned around, grinning at her. ‘You, me. A date. Next week. I’ll ring you.’ He continued walking away, backwards this time, until he bumped into a couple of drunks who spilled beer all over him. Our last sight was of him rushing to the toilet, no doubt to get rid of all the millions of germs that had just been dumped unceremoniously on top of him. ‘Dorrie Bradley, how do you do it?’ said Sarah, clapping her hands over her mouth and giggling her head off. ‘That’s the nuttiest proposition I’ve ever heard.’ ‘Me too,’ I said. ‘I wish someone would do that to me,’ sighed Beth. ‘Your turn will come,’ said Sarah. ‘Look at me.’ Yes, look at you, I thought silently, but kept my mouth shut for once. This was Sarah’s night. ‘To Sarah and Steve,’ said Dorrie, raising a glass. ‘Long life and happiness.’ ‘Sarah and Steve,’ we all echoed. ‘And here’s to the Bridesmaid Pact,’ continued Dorrie. ‘I can’t wait to fulfil it.’ ‘One four all and all four one,’ we chorused the mantra of our childhood, before downing our drinks in one. I put my glass down and sat back and looked at Sarah. For someone who was celebrating the happiest event of her life, she looked remarkably pensive. I hoped I hadn’t done that to her. ‘I hope you and Steve are really happy,’ I said with a smile I didn’t feel. ‘Do you? Really?’ Sarah said, searchingly. ‘Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘Sorry I’ve been a bit of a cow about it. Just jealous that your happy-ever-after’s come along I guess. I hope you’ll be very, very happy.’ I took a sip of my champagne, and looked away. At the time, I really thought I meant it. Chapter One (#ulink_3fd4d88e-94c2-5fa6-8205-fd13835b9733) Caz Now I turned the invitation over and over in my hands, despite the feeling of nausea rising up from the pit of my stomach and the sheer panic that seeing that handwriting for the first time in what – over four years? – had engendered in me. You had to hand it to Dorrie, she certainly knew how to break the ice. Only she could have sent me an invitation to her hen weekend on Mickey Mouse notepaper. Dorrie and Daz are finally tying the knot, it read and I snorted with laughter. Trust Doris to make her forthcoming nuptials sound like some kids’ TV programme. I was glad she was finally getting hitched to Yakult Man. About time too. They were made for each other. I had been surprised when Mum had sneered disapprovingly that my Goody Two-Shoes friend had had a baby out of wedlock, because it seemed so unlikely. Dorrie was always capable of surprises though, so maybe she’d relaxed about doing things the right way round since we last spoke. I had no clue as to what was going on in her private life, apart from the news I gleaned from Mum. I was no longer part of the inner circle. No one confided in me any more. My fault of course. I looked at the invitation again. You are invited, it said, to Dorrie’s extra special hen weekend at Euro Disney. Fri 27Sun 29 March. Fab Four members only. One four all and all four one. Trust Doris to remember that stupid tag line we’d had as kids. At the bottom, Doris had scrawled in her unforgettably untidy handwriting (amazing how someone as beautifully presented as Doris could have such terrible writing, but then, that was Doris all over, a mass of impossible contradictions), Please come. It won’t be the same without you. Doris. How could her parents have been so unkind as to give her that name? She always claimed it was because her mum was a fan of Doris Day, but it seemed like for once in her impeccably toned and manicured life, Doris’s mum had made a major faux pas. Not that Doris seemed to mind. She’d inherited the happy-go-lucky nature of her screen namesake, and took que sera, sera as her motto. And because she was just so bloody wonderful and fabulous, no one ever seemed to even tease her about her name. Now if it had been me… I turned the invitation over in my hands. Should I go? It seemed to me that Doris was offering me another chance. Typical of her generosity that. And I didn’t deserve it. I felt my stomach twist with guilt and shame as I remembered how I’d treated her last time we’d met. ‘Hey Caz.’ Dorrie had turned up on my doorstep un expectedly one day five years previously, just before Beth’s wedding. ‘Hi,’ I said. I was conscious that I looked unkempt, my normally short, slicked-back black hair – styled on Trinity from The Matrix – a tangled mess, whereas Dorrie, as ever, was done up to the nines, immaculate in a flowery vintage dress, black suede boots and a fabulous leather jacket. ‘Are you OK? You look a bit rough.’ Instantly Dorrie thought about me. I should have been more gracious, but I’d had a rough night in A & E with Mum. None of the girls ever knew about the humiliation of those trips to casualty, and I was too ashamed to tell them. ‘I’m fine,’ I said sharply, and saw Dorrie flinch. ‘Can I come in?’ ‘I suppose,’ I said, but I didn’t really want her there, I wanted to curl up and hide from the world. ‘I just wanted to see if there’s a way we can sort all this out,’ Dorrie said as she followed me into the lounge. I knew I should be offering her a drink, but I’d never felt less hospitable. ‘All what out?’ It came out belligerently. I knew what was coming and moreover I knew Dorrie was right. I had caused a rift in the Fab Four and it was up to me to put it right. ‘Oh Caz, this business with you and Beth and her wedding,’ said Dorrie. ‘Can’t you make up with her? She really does want you to be her bridesmaid.’ ‘So why isn’t she here asking me?’ I demanded. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here,’ admitted Dorrie. ‘Look, I’m sure I don’t know who’s right and who’s wrong here—’ ‘Too right you don’t,’ I said. ‘Just leave it, Dorrie, you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’ ‘Please don’t be like that,’ Dorrie said. ‘I know I can’t properly understand—’ ‘You have no idea,’ I said. ‘It’s all right for you, with your perfect life and perfect family.’ ‘If you must know, that’s not true,’ said Dorrie. ‘I’ve got problems you know nothing about.’ ‘What, Little Miss Perfect has a problem? What could possibly go wrong for you?’ I knew I was being unfair, and my guilt and anger were misdirected, but as usual my mouth engaged before my brain had – the words were out before I could stop them. Dorrie looked as if I had smacked her. ‘Sarah was right,’ she said. ‘She told me you wouldn’t listen.’ ‘So you’ve cooked this up with Sarah?’ I said. ‘I might have known. I know you mean well, Dorrie, but I think you’d better go.’ ‘I wouldn’t stay another minute,’ said Dorrie. She picked up her huge Gucci handbag, and got up and left the room. When she got to the door, she said sadly, ‘You’re not the only one with troubles you know.’ I didn’t stop to ask her what she meant and let her go. It was only much later that I found out how ill her dad was. I’d always loved Dorrie’s dad, who’d been so kind to me growing up. I tried to make amends, but Dorrie never returned my calls. I’ve felt guilty ever since. But now it seemed like Dorrie had forgiven me. But what of the others? Could Beth and Sarah ever forgive me for what I’d done to them? We grew up in a culture that taught us that redemption is always possible. But I liked to think I lived in the real world and was realistic enough to know that it didn’t happen as often as our teachers told us. Besides. You need to earn redemption. To gain forgiveness, you need to be truly, truly sorry. And even now there’s a self-destructive bit of me which isn’t sure that I am… The plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle airport and I took a deep breath. Well, here I was. Finally. It had taken all my courage to come – I’d been tempted by a job in Greece where a famous model was attempting a comeback shoot for M&S. It would have been a great job. Glamorous. In the sun all day, and time in the evenings for some unwinding and Greek dancing in the local tavernas. But Charlie persuaded me to go to France. Charlie was my favourite photographer on the circuit. Down-to-earth and easy-going, he had the most amazing ability to tease the best out of the subjects he shot. Working with Charlie was always a breeze. And he was fun to socialize with too. Not since that mad moment in Las Vegas that we’d ever been anything other than friends, mind. He was firmly hitched to his live-in girlfriend and, attractive as I found him, I wasn’t about to go upsetting any apple carts. I’d learnt my lesson too well last time. I emerged blinking from the airport into the pale March Paris sunshine. I always loved coming to Paris, but it was the caf? culture, museums and walks along the Seine which were the usual attraction for me. Without Dorrie’s invite, I doubt I’d ever have visited Disneyland Paris, but here I was on a train out of Gare du Nord, bound for Mickey Mouseville. Doris was the only person who could have ever persuaded me to come. And I still wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. The shuttle service to Marne la Vall?e proved surprisingly quick, and I had barely time to get my head together and think what on earth I was going to say to everyone when suddenly there I was being deposited in front of Woody’s Cowboy Ranch. Toy Story being Dorrie’s favourite Disney film, she’d insisted we stay here. Despite my nerves I couldn’t help but smile as Woody greeted me at the door. I could just imagine how delighted Dorrie must have been when she arrived. My smile was only temporary though. My heart plunged to my boots as I made my way to the reception desk. Suddenly I was eight years old again, being invited for the first time to Dorrie’s mansion. It had felt like such a privilege, and yet in the self-destructive way I have, I’d pretty much blown the chance of making the most of the opportunities being friends with Dorrie and the others had afforded me. I didn’t even know if they’d want to see me again, let alone forgive me. Knowing Dorrie, I bet she hadn’t told them I was coming. I checked in at the desk, my nerves making a mash of my schoolgirl French. The unsmiling receptionist responded in perfect English with a look of such sneery disdain and I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole. Giving up on any attempt to speak her language, I said, ‘I’m meeting friends; a Doris Bradley?’ ‘Ah oui, Mademoiselle Bradley is next door to you. I will let her know you have arrived.’ I took my bags and made my way to the third floor, shaking like a leaf. Suppose I ended up ruining Dorrie’s big weekend? This had been a dreadful mistake. I was wrong to come. I found my room, next to Dorrie’s. I swallowed hard. Should I dump my bags, freshen up and then go and say hi? Or should I bite the bullet and go straight for it? The door to room 327 flung wide open, and there in the flesh for the first time in five years stood Dorrie. Larger than life, as ever. Welcoming me in a massive hug. I felt my worries disappear instantly. Dorrie had a way of doing that. It was her special talent. ‘Caz! You came! I’m so pleased. Come right in.’ I’d forgotten how overpowering she could be. She propelled me into the middle of a massive room. I had a moment to take in the double bed, the cowboy-hat-shaped lampshades, the bridles and saddles decorating the walls, and the huge horseshoe over the bed, before I realized she wasn’t alone. Lounging on the bed, sipping champagne, were two faces I hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. They both looked up at me and registered their shock. ‘You never said she was coming.’ Sarah shot me a look of such venom, I was quite taken aback. God, did she really hate me that much still? ‘It wouldn’t have been the same without her,’ said Dorrie firmly. ‘Lock up your husbands,’ said Sarah. ‘Sorry Doz, I know you mean well, but I’m not spending any more time with her than I have to.’ She got up and stormed out of the room, pushing past me with evident hatred. I knew I shouldn’t have come. Chapter Two (#ulink_a31feaed-da91-523a-8cd2-c15aaf665235) Beth I was so shocked when Caz walked through the door. Doris had been yacking on all morning about having a wonderful surprise for Sarah and me, but neither of us had imagined it would be Caz. I suppose we should have known. It was Dorrie who’d instigated the Bridesmaid Pact way back when, so I suppose it would be just like her to assume we’d all come together for her wedding, even though none of us had managed to do it for each other’s. Of course, Caz had made a monumental cock-up with her wedding. By her own admission, copious amounts of vodka, and the sheer dizzying excitement of being in Vegas had led her to get carried away. By the time we found out she was married, it was already over, so there was no chance we could get to be bridesmaids for her. Dorrie was the closest I’ve seen to furious when she found out. ‘But what about the Bridesmaid Pact?’ she’d wailed. ‘What about it?’ Caz had laughed. ‘C’me on, you didn’t seriously expect us to fulfil that daft promise did you?’ But, of course, Dorrie did. When it was Sarah’s turn, she talked about nothing else. We were all lined up to be bridesmaids. It had all been sorted for months. But then, Caz did whatever she did – to this day Sarah’s none too sure, but Steve swore whatever happened had been at Caz’s instigation. And that was that. Caz dropped out of being a bridesmaid but then turned up in the evening anyway, nearly ruining Sarah’s day, and Sarah’s never, ever forgiven her. My wedding was next, and I was all for having the Fab Four together on my special day. I didn’t need Dorrie to persuade me, and I’d hoped that Sarah and Caz could make up enough for that to happen. Sarah was prepared to put aside their differences for my sake, but then Caz had to go and open her big mouth at my hen night, we argued and I said I didn’t want her to be my bridesmaid any more. She didn’t even come to the wedding, and thanks to Sarah suffering from terrible morning sickness, half the time it felt as though Dorrie was my only bridesmaid. It wasn’t what either of us had planned. Thanks to Caz’s erratic behaviour at my hen night, I was terrified about my secret coming out on my wedding day. I couldn’t bear it if Matthew had found out. Now I wonder if I was right. I wish sometimes I had told him. Particularly now. Secrets are corrosive, they never do you any good. I’d had enough of Caz by then. So selfish. So poisonous. So untrustworthy. Wherever she goes she leaves a trail of carnage behind her. One day it will come and bite her on the bum and she’ll be sorry. I thought after that we’d never see her again. The Fab Four shrank down to the Terrific Trio. It was good, but not the way things had been. And though I’d never admit it to the others, there were times when I missed Caz. She was so wild and daring and different – all the things I’d longed to be. And despite her later betrayal, she had been there for me when I needed her. Besides Caz added sparkle to my life, a sparkle I thought had gone forever. Until now. Typical that Dorrie would insist on her coming. There was a time when Dorrie hadn’t been able to forgive Caz, but it simply wasn’t in her nature to bear grudges. Caz stood looking awkward in the middle of the room. ‘I knew this was a bad idea,’ she said, barely looking at me. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, I’m going to ruin your weekend.’ ‘You are going nowhere,’ said Doris firmly. ‘I invited you because I wanted you here. I know we’ve all had our differences’ – that’s putting it mildly, but Doris is the queen of positive spin – ‘a lot of water’s gone under the bridge. But this is my hen weekend and I want you here. Life’s too short to fall out with people. I think it’s time we all moved on. So there. Beth, you don’t mind do you?’ ‘I—’ What could I say? Doris was right. She usually was. Perhaps it was time to forgive and forget. Caz had undoubtedly hurt me, what she’d done to me was inconsiderate and thoughtless, I’d been holding on to my anger about it for a long time. But like my secret, that anger was corrosive and doing me no good. Seeing Caz in the flesh made me realize how much I missed her. ‘Beth, I’m really sorry,’ said Caz. ‘I know it was a long time ago, but those things I said at your hen night…I’d had too much to drink and behaved really, really badly. I’m so ashamed of myself. I didn’t mean to cause you, of all people, so much grief. I’ve never had a chance to tell you before how sorry I was.’ Because I’d never let her, I realized with a jolt. ‘I can’t say I wasn’t upset,’ I said, slowly, ‘because I was. But I think Dorrie’s right. A lot of water has gone under the bridge. I can’t promise to forget, but I will try and forgive.’ ‘I know I don’t deserve that,’ said Caz, and I could see tears sparkling in her eyes. With that I melted completely. I could barely remember seeing Caz cry. I realized what a big thing it was for her to have walked into the room in the first place, let alone apologize. ‘It’s history,’ I said, ‘forget about it.’ We hugged awkwardly and Doris poured her a glass of champagne. Caz sat down on the edge of the bed and we embarked on a serious catch-up. ‘How’s your family?’ Caz asked. ‘Oh fine,’ I said. ‘Parents are older, but still going strong. They moved, you know, out of London, to be by the sea. But then they decided it was too dull for them there and moved back. So now Mum organizes the new parish priest, Father Miserecordie, and Dad sends her mad by building things in the garage, and they’re happy as Larry.’ I stopped, wondering if I should ask about Caz’s mum who had never been happy in her life, but Caz did it for me. ‘Mum is sadly still with us,’ she said. ‘I barely see her. Thank goodness.’ ‘You can’t mean that,’ I protested. ‘Surely she’s not that bad.’ ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Caz in a tone that brooked no further questions. She looked slightly hesitant and said to Doris, ‘I was really sorry to hear about your dad. What happened?’ ‘You don’t know?’ Dorrie’s face creased in pain. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d been through. She always kept her cards closely to her chest, but from the little I’d gleaned it had been tough. ‘No,’ said Caz. ‘I mean, I heard he died and I was really sorry, but Mum didn’t know any of the details.’ ‘He had MS,’ said Doris. ‘It was a progressive type and acted really fast. It was really terrible. He was in a wheelchair being fed by a tube at the end.’ Caz looked horrified. I think of all of us she’d loved Dorrie’s dad the most. Perhaps not having one of her own, she was more appreciative of him than Sarah and I were. ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Caz. ‘I should have been there for you.’ ‘You were probably too busy on a drinking spree,’ said Doris in an uncharacteristically spiteful manner. ‘Ouch,’ said Caz, flinching. ‘I probably deserved that.’ There was an uncomfortable pause, then Doris said, ‘No, no you didn’t. I’m the one who should be sorry. That was uncalled for. What happened to Dad was so bloody rotten and unfair, it makes me angry is all.’ ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Caz. ‘Your dad was wonderful. What a terrible thing to happen to him.’ Another pause, when we were uncomfortably aware that Doris, cheerful, happy-go-lucky Doris, was blinking away tears. ‘This will never bloody do,’ she said, pulling herself together. ‘This is a hen weekend, not a misery fest. We’re here to party. Time to go and do some screaming.’ In our teens, screaming as a result of Doris forcing us onto some god-awful fairground ride was a common occurrence. I’d hated it then and hated it now. ‘Do we have to?’ I groaned. ‘Yup,’ said Dorrie. ‘That’s the deal this weekend. You all have to come on at least one ride where you get to scream.’ ‘What about Sarah?’ said Caz. ‘She clearly doesn’t want me here. I don’t want to ruin things.’ ‘Leave Sarah to me,’ said Doris firmly. ‘No one, but no one, is going to spoil my weekend.’ ‘OK, here’s the thing,’ said Dorrie as we queued up to go into Euro Disney. ‘This is my weekend and I want things my way. So Sarah, Caz, I know you have your differences, and I know this isn’t easy for you. But, it’s really important to me that you’re both here, particularly now,’ she paused, then added, ‘with the wedding and everything. So can we call a truce for the next forty-eight hours? You can go back to hating each other afterwards.’ Sarah looked mutinous but didn’t say anything. Like the rest of us, she found it impossible to resist Dorrie, but her resentment of Caz was so deep rooted, she was obviously prepared to make an exception. ‘Look, Dorrie,’ said Caz looking uncomfortable, ‘it clearly isn’t OK for Sarah for me to be here. I should go back to the hotel—’ ‘When did you turn all mealy mouthed, Caz?’ snapped Sarah. ‘I think I preferred you bitchy.’ ‘I can do bitchy if you want me to,’ Caz snapped right back. ‘I am trying, you know.’ Dorrie tried again. ‘Come on girls, we’re in Euro Disney. Play nice. For me?’ Sarah still looked sulky, but said, ‘Anything for you, Dorrie, you know that.’ ‘Me too,’ said Caz, looking relieved. ‘Great,’ said Dorrie, brightening up. ‘Now let’s go party.’ As we came through the entrance, we were greeted by a band playing incessantly cheerful music, and the sight of Mickey and Goofy glad-handing people. ‘Perfect,’ said Dorrie, clapping her hands. ‘This is just perfect.’ It was impossible not to get swept up in her enthusiasm. Soon we found ourselves in Frontierland, trying to work out which was the least scary ride. Sarah and I hated rides, while Caz and Dorrie loved them. ‘Well that one doesn’t look too bad,’ Caz pointed at Big Thunder Mountain which seemed to consist of carriages whizzing in and out of tunnels and didn’t appear that dangerous. Half an hour later we were all screaming. Big Thunder Mountain was apparently ‘fairly thrilling’ according to the scare guide on the map we’d been given as we entered the park. I must be getting old or something, but I started yelling for dear life, the minute the rollercoaster cranked us up to the top and we could see darkness beckoning us below. Within seconds we were plunging down and sideways through endless dark tunnels and Sarah and I were screeching our heads off. How could anyone think this was fun? Behind us I could hear Caz turning the air blue, but Doris was just laughing aloud. I don’t know how she does that. She never appears to be fazed by anything. ‘Don’t – make – me – go – on – anything – else,’ Sarah panted out between breaths as we got off. ‘That was truly horrible.’ ‘What, not even the teacups?’ Doris was laughing at all of us. Even Caz looked white. But she took pity on us long enough to let us go and buy ourselves candyfloss, and permitted us to wander about weighing up the other rides before we went on them. ‘I think we should go on Space Mountain next,’ said Doris as we found our way into the space adventure area. ‘No, no and no,’ I said, staring up in horror as we watched a rocket being cranked up the side of a huge tower. ‘I think I might be sick if I went on that,’ said Sarah faintly. ‘I’m game if you are,’ Caz said, grinning at Dorrie, never one to miss out on a dare. She and Sarah had barely spoken to each other all afternoon, leaving Dorrie and me to gamely plug in the gaps, but at least they weren’t out and out fighting. ‘Oh, I’m game,’ said Dorrie. ‘You know me. Are you sure you two don’t want to go?’ ‘Absolutely,’ we said in unison. We waved them off to the massive queue and took ourselves off to a Buzz Lightyear ride which consisted of zapping lots of aliens, at which I was rubbish but Sarah proved rather good. ‘How come you got so many?’ I said in surprise. ‘I didn’t have you taped as a computer games nerd.’ ‘It’s amazing what you pick up from five-year-olds,’ said Sarah. She has two boys the oldest of whom is obsessed with PlayStation. ‘It also helps that I was imagining all the aliens with Caz’s face on them.’ ‘Sarah,’ I protested weakly. ‘Is that fair?’ ‘The nerve of her!’ Sarah suddenly said. ‘I can understand why Dorrie asked her. We all know how kind and – well, some might say stupidly forgiving – she is, but Caz didn’t have to say yes did she? She must have known it would be awkward.’ ‘More for her than us, maybe,’ I said. ‘Oh come on, Beth, you know what she did to me,’ said Sarah. ‘You might be prepared to forgive and forget, but I don’t find it that easy.’ ‘I know, I know,’ I said. ‘And I can’t say I was all that keen to see her. But can’t you make an effort? At least for Doris’s sake. It obviously means a lot to her. Can’t you at least try?’ ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Sarah, in a noncommittal manner, but I noticed when Doris and Caz came back, both looking slightly pale it has to be said, that she made an effort to at least speak to Caz and even shared one or two jokes with her. I grinned encouragingly at Dorrie. Who knows, maybe her madcap reunion scheme might actually work. Stranger things have been known to happen. Chapter Three (#ulink_a526be3a-da48-5459-b14b-72093174b564) Sarah Had I known what Doris’s ‘treat’ for us was going to be, I’m not sure I’d have gone on her hen weekend. Bless Doris, with her understanding boyfriend who’d do anything for her and dippy but wonderful mum who babysits at the drop of a hat, she can never quite get that life for other people is slightly more complicated. All she has to do is flutter her eyelashes at Daz and he’s putty in her hands, so arranging a weekend away without the baby isn’t the major undertaking it is for me. Besides, she doesn’t have school runs to factor in. Having persuaded Steve that he owed me big time was an undertaking in itself. I didn’t directly want to broach the subject of why he owes me, because I couldn’t face the lies and self-justifications. Better let him fret a bit about what I knew or didn’t know rather than having a full-blown and ultimately meaningless confrontation about it. We’d been there too many times and I just didn’t have the energy to do it again. So Steve agreed to ‘babysit’ his own children for the weekend. For all his other faults, Stephen is a good dad, when he can be persuaded to take time away from his precious office and pay any attention to the kids. I can’t take that away from him, and he hadn’t griped as much as I thought he would about me having a girlie weekend with my best friends. Or rather, my best friends barring one. I knew I hadn’t behaved well when Dorrie opened the door and produced Caz. Beth was right. What happened was a long time ago, and maybe I should forgive and forget. But just seeing her again had churned up all my jealous hateful feelings and the white-hot anger that I had carried with me for years. Caz was supposed to be my best friend and she had betrayed me in the worst way imaginable. And although with hindsight and a much better knowledge of my husband’s behaviour, I could see her side of the story, it still didn’t take anything away from what she’d done. Whatever way you cut it, Caz had broken my trust and I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive her for that. Just seeing her again had been like reopening an old wound. A knife twisted in my stomach as I wondered, yet again, whether Steve had found her more sexy than me, whether he’d ever thought about whether he made the right choice. I know I did. But this wasn’t my weekend to spoil, and I love Dorrie too much to want to ruin things for her. So when Beth and I met them, fresh from their trip up Space Mountain, I took a deep breath and said as casually as I could, ‘So, how’s it going then?’ Caz looked at me a little cautiously. I couldn’t blame her, seeing as I had snapped her head off earlier. ‘Er, OK,’ she said. ‘Still travelling the world, tarting up ungrateful models.’ ‘Sounds a lot more fun than the school run and the washing,’ I said. Honestly, trying to make out her life was somehow dull and mundane, she had no idea how the real world operated. There were days when I’d give anything to be young, free and single again. ‘Well it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ Caz said. ‘There are times when I live out of a suitcase, and generally speaking I see nothing of the country but a series of nameless hotels. It’s not that exciting.’ ‘More exciting than my life,’ I said. ‘But you’ve got the kids, and Steve—’ she said, then wavered a little. ‘Oh yes, Steve,’ I said sweetly. ‘Yes, I have got him, haven’t I?’ An awkwardness hung between us, and Dorrie and Beth who’d been looking on nervously from the sidelines, both jumped in with ‘Let’s get some candyfloss’ (Beth) and, ‘I don’t care how old you are, we are all going to go and have our photo taken with Goofy, right now’ (Dorrie). Dorrie grabbed my arm and Beth grabbed Caz’s and they manhandled us over to where a queue of children was patiently waiting to have their picture taken with Goofy. We were the only adults in the queue. ‘Dorrie, do we have to do this?’ Caz groaned. ‘I feel like such a dork.’ ‘Me too,’ I said, and momentarily forgetting my animosity to Caz in the face of such mortification, I grinned at her. I’d forgotten this, how Caz and I always used to stand together against Dorrie’s battier ideas. ‘Yes, we absolutely do,’ said Dorrie in mock serious tones. ‘This is my weekend and you will do things my way. That is all.’ Beth giggled, ‘Dorrie, everyone else having their photo taken is about two foot tall. We’ll look ridiculous.’ ‘I don’t care,’ said Dorrie. ‘We are having a picture with Goofy and that is that.’ So ten minutes later, we all stood posing like idiots next to Goofy. Dorrie of course had thrust her arm through his, but I refused point blank to let him put his arm round me. It was bad enough to be standing next to an adult dressed up as a cartoon character without having to be hugged by him. To make matters worse, Dorrie wanted thousands of pictures with him, ‘For posterity,’ she said. ‘I may never do this again.’ ‘We certainly won’t,’ Caz muttered, and I couldn’t help grinning. ‘Isn’t this fun?’ Dorrie beamed as she got us to all link arms and stand in front of Goofy for a final photo. Caz and I studiously stood on either end as far apart as we could get. ‘Good, can we go now?’ I said as we broke up after the last shot. A huge crowd of toddlers was building up, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. ‘Oh look, look,’ Dorrie waved madly, ‘it’s Mickey! Cooee, come and have your photo with us, Mickey.’ So we all stood in line again, this time having no choice but to link arms with Mickey and Goofy. I produced a series of contorted smiles as the endless torture went on. ‘Honestly, Dorrie, I’m going to kill you for this,’ I said. ‘But just think of the great photos we’re going to have,’ said Dorrie, beaming brightly. I have never known anyone be so positive as Dorrie – no wonder she loved all things Disney. Finally the marathon photo session came to an end, and the poor beleaguered minder was able to hand back Dorrie’s camera. ‘Right, can we go now?’ hissed Caz. ‘I’ve had as much of this as I can take.’ Unfortunately, Goofy didn’t seem to think so and insisted that not only was hugging required, but kissing too. ‘Dear god,’ I said laughing hysterically as we finally made our way to the candyfloss stall. ‘I can’t believe I have just been snogged by a cartoon character.’ ‘I told you it would be fun,’ said Dorrie, with self-satisfaction. ‘I so love it when I’m right.’ ‘Oh, do shut up,’ we said. Suddenly it felt like old times. I glanced at Caz, wondering if she felt the same. Could we possibly reclaim our past after all? ‘So, are we still having fun?’ Dorrie had gathered us all, like the mother hen she was, and insisted we wait out a spring shower in a caf? crowded with families: small children darted here and there, toddlers screamed and were pacified with soothers and bottles. I had a pang of longing for my own family, at home without me. I knew the boys would love Euro Disney. I had a sudden fantasy of Steve and me finally sorting out our problems and coming here for a family celebration. Then dismissed it. That was never going to happen. The caf? staff were evidently overrun, as the place was overflowing with plastic cups and plates which hadn’t been cleared away. I was beginning to get a headache, not helped by the endlessly cheery music. I’d only been here a day and already I was fed up with the place, longing to have a hot drink out of a proper mug, rather than a Styrofoam cup. And really, if I were being honest, I wanted to be at home with the children. ‘Yes, Auntie Dorrie,’ grinned Caz. ‘Honestly, we’re not your children, and we’re not Darren. You can talk to us like normal human beings, you know.’ ‘Sorry,’ Dorrie looked shamefaced. ‘I don’t mean to go on, but you know how much I love everything Disney and I just want everyone to have a good time.’ ‘It’s great,’ I assured her, lying through my teeth. The only other people apart from Dorrie who could have dragged me here were the children – I felt the familiar tug of my heart, the boys would have had a blast here. I’d have to promise them I’d take them to make up for leaving them behind for the weekend. ‘Good,’ beamed Doris. She was always happier when other people were happy. ‘So what do you all want to do tonight?’ ‘Any chance we can escape into Paris?’ Caz said hopefully. ‘I know some great caf?s in Montmartre.’ ‘Caz, even you must know that’s not an option,’ laughed Beth. ‘I’m sure Dorrie is just being polite. What do you want to do tonight, Dorrie? After all, this is your weekend.’ ‘Well, there’s a Wild West show in Disney Village,’ said Dorrie. Caz groaned. ‘You are so not going to make us go to that, are you?’ she said. ‘It’s bound to be full of screaming five-year-olds.’ ‘And what’s wrong with five-year-olds?’ I snapped, my longing to see the children leaving me slightly oversensitive. Beth shushed me, clearly not wanting to get in a row, but Caz just rolled her eyes. ‘We’ll go to the later version,’ said Dorrie, ‘and I promise there’ll be drink. And Sarah, no more texting.’ ‘Sorry,’ I said. I’d been surreptitiously texting Steve on and off all day to see how he was getting on. This was the first time I’d ever been away from the kids for any length of time and I was missing them badly. I wasn’t, oddly enough, missing Steve. It was peculiarly restful not having to think about Steve, or us, or what I was going to do about the monumental mess my life was in. ‘So it’s agreed, then?’ said Doris. ‘Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show and then we can probably still have time to see the fireworks before the evening ends.’ A couple of hours later we were all sitting in hysterics around a barbecue as we watched a spectacular show. It started with two cowboys in a mock brawl, which was so convincing we nearly moved tables as they came crashing towards us. They moved on then to have fun with a bucking bronco, and on discovering it was Dorrie’s hen weekend, they insisted she had a go, much to her delight. The show wrapped up with songs from Annie Get Your Gun and Oklahoma!. It wasn’t what I’d have chosen to see, and despite my slight thawing earlier on, I’d still have preferred to have spent the evening without Caz, but I had had enough beer to begin to relax and enjoy myself. At least Doris had let us give up our Minnie Mouse ears in favour of cowgirl hats. Caz had flirted with the bar staff enough to blag some extra drinks and the mood was mellow. The main thing was that Doris was having a great time. She had been uncharacteristically tense of late, and Beth and I had been worrying that she’d been holding out on us over something, but listening to her launch into some outrageous tale involving Darren, a condom and an embarrassing encounter with Darren’s mum, I felt she was relaxing into her old self once more. ‘So how are things?’ Caz had sidled round to my side of the table, while Doris and Beth were indulging in a giggling conversation with a French actor who called himself Rodeo Bill. ‘Fine,’ I said, thinking, If only you knew. There was a time when Caz knew everything that was going on in my head. Despite what she’d done to me, part of me still missed her friendship terribly. ‘Is that fine, as in “Everything’s great” fine, or fine as in “Shut up and leave me alone” fine?’ Damn Caz. She always could see right through me. I picked away at a beer mat, unwanted tears suddenly springing to my eyes. ‘Everything’s fine, honestly,’ I said. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’ ‘No, no of course not.’ Caz looked sad when she said this. ‘You know, Sarah, if I could turn the clock back—’ ‘Well you can’t,’ I said. ‘What’s done is done.’ ‘And will I ever be forgiven?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘I don’t know, Caz,’ I said. ‘How would you feel if you were in my shoes?’ ‘Point taken,’ Caz said. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ She looked so forlorn I nearly took pity on her and told her the true state of my marriage, but somehow I couldn’t. That would mean acknowledging how wrong I’d been to trust him and not her. ‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ I said harshly. ‘I’m sorry,’ Caz said again. ‘Truly I am.’ ‘Let’s forget it, shall we?’ I said. ‘Come on, this is Dorrie’s night. We shouldn’t spoil it for her.’ ‘Fine by me,’ said Caz. She turned to Doris and Beth. ‘Is it time for fireworks yet?’ ‘Lordy, is that the time?’ Dorrie said, giggling. Dorrie didn’t tend to do really drunk, but I was glad she was having a good time. She got up slightly giddily, and stumbled against the chair. She must have tripped over her feet because suddenly she was lying on her back on the floor looking up at us. ‘I didn’t realize you’d had that much to drink,’ I said laughing. ‘Honestly, Dorrie, what are you like?’ Dorrie didn’t say anything for a minute, then laughed and said, ‘I must have had more than I realized. Come on, pull me up.’ I leant over and helped her to her feet. There was a fleeting moment when I had the slightest of feelings that she wasn’t happy about something. But it was gone in an instant. Dorrie was on her feet and demanding to be taken to fireworks. ‘Then it’s back to my room to polish off the vodka I bought on the way,’ she said. ‘Fireworks then vodka, it is,’ I said, linking arms with her. Beth joined her on the other side, and then I was aware that Caz was hovering next to me. I still hadn’t forgiven her, but not to grab her arm seemed really churlish. The four of us walked arm in arm back towards the park. Well we would have walked, but of course Dorrie insisted we dance and sing ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard’. I wondered if she really believed in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Knowing Dorrie, she probably did. ‘Isn’t this great?’ Dorrie smiled at us and squeezed my arm. ‘The Fab Four finally back together. This has been the perfect hen weekend.’ The Fab Four might have been together temporarily, but I couldn’t see it lasting. I had no plans to see Caz again, whatever Dorrie might have thought. Too much water had gone under the bridge. Caz might be sorry, but for me, it was too late. Chapter Four (#ulink_314d11d8-f22d-51aa-91b1-e947da7d09d4) Doris ‘Welcome to Disney’s Fantallusion!’ the audio recording boomed out as we stood in the chilly March night air waiting for the fireworks. We’d missed the start of the parade, but were just in time to see the brightly lit floats carrying all the Disney characters from Jasmine and Aladdin to Belle and the Beast into the Central Plaza and up towards the Town Square. Jasmine and Aladdin’s carpet actually flew, and Belle and the Beast did a majestic waltz. It was glitzy and tacky and I didn’t care one bit. I was like a pig in clover. This was why I’d come, for the delicious feeling of it being night and the place being brightly lit and all my favourite Disney characters dancing on great big fuck-off platforms. It reminded me of when Dad took me to Florida every year, and made me feel like a kid again: warm, safe and secure. There was something about the memory of those trips that made me yearn for a more innocent time, when I really did believe in a happy-ever-after. As usual, when I thought about Dad, and remembered the way he used to squeeze my hand, and say, ‘Look, kiddo, is that the best or what?’ whenever a particularly big rocket went off, I got a lump in my throat. I still missed him so badly, I could almost hear his voice in my head. I hadn’t wanted him to die, but neither had I wanted him to live the way he had been living. The place was buzzing with families, huddling together for warmth. There were masses of excited children rushing around in the dark, small children trustfully holding their parents’ hands, just like I had on that long-ago childhood trip. Mind you, judging by the wails of some of the younger ones, they were ready for their beds. I felt a pang and thought about Woody, my eight-month-old. Tonight was the first night I hadn’t put him to bed since he was born, and I missed his baby smell, and his chubby cheeks and the way he cooed when I poured water over his head in the bath. I loved the way he clapped his hands and played peek-a-boo under the blankets. Woody had brought joy back into my life, during a time when I thought I’d never feel happy again. When he was bigger, I’d have to come back with him and Darren. If I were still able to of course. I shoved the thought from my mind. I’d promised myself no negativity this weekend. None. Whatsoever. It wasn’t allowed. ‘Fantallusion?’ Beth rolled her eyes. ‘What kind of word is that?’ ‘Does it matter?’ I said. ‘Isn’t this fun?’ ‘No!’ the other three said in unison. ‘We only came because you wanted to.’ ‘You have to admit, Do, it is incredibly tacky,’ said Caz. ‘Says the girl who got married in a Las Vegas wedding chapel,’ I retorted. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of tack. You lot ought to know me well enough by now. Talking of which, why aren’t you all wearing your flashing Minnie Mouse ears?’ ‘If this wasn’t your weekend, I think I might have to kill you,’ said Caz, but she put on her ears anyway. And afterwards, even Caz had to admit we’d been treated to the most fabulous firework display any of us had ever seen. When it was over, we slowly made our way back through the crowds to our hotel. It had been a good call to be staying so close to the park; apart from the obvious pleasure of staying in a Toy Story-themed bedroom, I was grateful not to have to walk too far. I tired so easily these days. Darren hadn’t wanted me to come, of course, but I had laughed off his concerns. Nothing, but nothing was going to ruin my hen weekend with the girls. ‘I hadn’t realized you were that pissed,’ Caz laughed at me as I stumbled and fell for the second time, as we reached the entrance of the park. ‘Must be out of practice,’ I said. ‘I’ve had nine months off, remember. And I don’t go out that much any more.’ If only I were pissed. If only things were that simple. We got back to my room, raided the minibar and were soon all sprawled out on the massive double bed having a general gossip session. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. It did me so much good to be with the Fab Four. It always had done. Ever since we first met and I called us by that name. I’d just moved to Northfields. Mum had got a job on a soap in London, while Dad was able to take up a research post at a London university, and it was convenient for town. They both wanted me to go to school in the UK, because Mum didn’t want me growing up with an American accent and Dad preferred the academic rigour of the English education system. They could have afforded to send me private, but it went against their principles and they wanted me to go to a Catholic school, which is how I ended up at St Philomena’s primary school, sitting next to Beth McCarthy, who wore dark plaits, had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen, and who barely ever said anything, just sat there chewing her pen. It didn’t matter to me though, like I was always telling her, I could talk enough for the both of us. Beth, Sarah and I went to Brownies together, so soon I found myself playing with them on a regular basis. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Sarah was easy and confident, in a way that Beth wasn’t, and I liked her instantly. But I was always conscious of another scraggy-looking dark-haired girl with the palest face and dark circles round her eyes, hovering angrily on the fringes, refusing our offers to play and yet never quite being able to tear herself away. That was Caz. She’d known Sarah forever and was jealous of me to begin with, I think. But I made her laugh, and over time she realized I really was no threat. I just wanted to be friends with everyone. Still do. ‘So, how are the wedding plans going?’ ‘Great,’ I said, in reply to Caz, who had asked the question casually, from the edge of the bed, even now acting like the outsider. My heart ached for her. I wish she could give up on some of that stubborn pride and realize that none of us hated her, not even Sarah. Not really. In fact it was Sarah’s confession to me about the way things were between her and Steve which had made me determined to have Caz here. I’ve always thought it stupid for two women to allow a man to come between their friendship. Particularly when it’s a worthless one like Steve. ‘Are you keeping up the Disney theme?’ Caz said – she was the only one who wasn’t privy to all my plans. ‘What do you think?’ Sarah grinned. I shot her a grateful look, I knew how hard this was for her and she was at least trying. ‘She’s going for the whole Cinderella-getting-married thing. If it were up to Doris she’d even have a pumpkin carriage.’ ‘Believe you me, I tried,’ I said. ‘It’s the only thing you can’t apparently buy on eBay.’ ‘So what are your bridesmaids going to be wearing then?’ Caz asked. There was an awkward pause and no one said anything. ‘What? What have I said?’ asked Caz. Beth looked at me and blushed and then lowered her eyes again. ‘I’m not having bridesmaids,’ I said. ‘What?’ Caz looked at me in disbelief. ‘But…but…Bridesmaids. Getting married. The Bridesmaid Pact. I mean that’s your thing. I know the rest of us have cocked it up, but I just assumed you wouldn’t.’ ‘Speak for yourself,’ said Sarah cattily. ‘The rest of us didn’t cock it up. Besides, if Doris has any sense she’d never invite you to be her bridesmaid. You only bring trouble.’ ‘Oh that’s right, rub it in,’ said Caz. ‘Isn’t it possible that a person can change?’ ‘You tell me?’ The hostility that had been bubbling under the surface all evening suddenly burst out into the open, to my utter dismay. I’d so hoped Caz and Sarah could sort things out. As ever, I was too optimistic. Darren’s always telling me my chief failing is that I look for the best in people and situations. Maybe some hurts can never heal. ‘Girls, girls,’ I said clapping my hands, and trying to lighten the mood, ‘that’s exactly why I can’t have any bridesmaids. I don’t want it to be pistols at dawn at the altar. If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want any of you. So there are going to be no bridesmaids at my wedding. End of.’ Caz opened her mouth and shut it again, rendered for once in her life speechless. ‘Don’t all gawp at me,’ I said. ‘You should be grateful. You should have seen the dresses I was planning to make you wear.’ Caz August 1996 Billy Idol was screaming out it was a nice day for a white wedding, which seemed appropriate in a bar in Las Vegas. I couldn’t resist the craving for the next drink, though I knew I needed it like a hole in the head. ‘Oi, Charlie boy, gezza ’nother drink.’ I was aware vaguely in some dim dark recess in my brain that I’d probably had enough and I was definitely slurring my words. The sensible thing would be to go to bed right now. Call it a day with these very nice and fun-loving work colleagues with whom I’d spent the last couple of days bonding in Las Vegas on the first solo photo shoot of my career as a make-up artist. But my sensible head never won over my drunken one. ‘What are you on again?’ Charlie looked in about as good shape as I was. He had wandered up to the bar. He turned to look at me as he said this, and leaned rather nonchalantly against the bar. He missed, narrowly avoiding smashing his chin before righting himself. ‘Vodka and coke,’ I said, giggling hysterically. Our companions, Charlie’s boss Finn, and Sal, the PA to the spoilt model whose photos we’d all been involved in taking for the past couple of days, were nuzzling up to each other in one of the deep-red heart-shaped sofas that littered the bar. It had not been a very well kept secret that they were shagging the pants off each other, despite Finn’s heavily pregnant wife at home. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. I was no angel, it’s true, but shagging someone who was hitched with a baby on the way seemed like a complication too far to me. I wondered if he was worth it. Then, looking at his rugged, wrinkled face, I decided he wasn’t. Finn must be nearly twenty years older than Sal. What on earth did she see in him? Now Charlie on the other hand…Over the last couple of days I’d decided he was a bit of all right. Tall, dark, conventionally good-looking with a fetching quiff that fell over his eye that he brushed off in a movement that I found at once attractive and endearing, Charlie was rather lovely. And might be just the thing to take my mind off the humiliation of Steve’s rejection. I’d always known Steve would go for Sarah in the end, despite all his flirting. They always did. Her pretty girl-next-door good looks always won them over, even if they were initially attracted to my wildness. My spiky aggressiveness was in the main too much for most of the men I encountered. Far too toxic, as I’d been told on more than one occasion. They enjoyed the shag, but they never hung around long enough to keep their spare PJs in my cupboard. When we’d met him out drinking in Soho, it was obvious that a cityboy slicker like him would go for Sarah, the safe bet, rather than her more wild and unpredictable friend. Not that it stopped him flirting with me, mind, and making lewd suggestions about what he’d like to do with me when Sarah wasn’t around. I’d bet a million dollars he never said anything to her like that. I should have been a better friend to Sarah. I should have warned her what he was like. But annoying prick as he was, Steve also happened to be one of the most gorgeous guys I’d ever met. Talk about love god. And I really did like him, and couldn’t help the stab of jealousy when he chose Sarah. So after that, when we were all out together, I never stopped his surreptitious flirting with me, reasoning that it couldn’t do any harm. He made me feel so good about myself, and I, despite all my chippiness and bravado, needed a morale boost from time to time. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, of course. So when he finally moved things up a notch, when I bumped into him while clubbing without Sarah, I didn’t even think about her. And after we’d danced and snogged and gyrated our way round the dance floor, I thought we’d inevitably end up back at my flat. I didn’t think I cared, but the feeling of rejection when he left me so coldly, so humiliatingly on the dance floor was one I was unprepared for. I hated the feelings of churned-up misery he’d stirred up in me. It made me furious to feel so weak. But after all he and Sarah were engaged, what did I expect? And I was left alone. Bruised, sore, guilty, furious with myself for still hankering after him. And not a little jealous. Yes, I could do with Charlie to lighten things up. He’d been so understanding, and he seemed to like me… ‘What time is it?’ I jerked awake, and suddenly realized I’d dozed off on Charlie’s shoulder. There was no sign of the other two. Presumably they’d gone off to consummate their passion. Well, good luck to them. ‘Three a.m.,’ said Charlie. ‘But hey, the night’s still young. We’re in Vegas don’t forget. Ever played blackjack?’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘But there’s a first time for everything.’ So suddenly we found ourselves running through the hotel’s casino, like a pair of school kids. There were roulette wheels and card tables, in the plushest of surroundings. It was such an outrageous, extravagant kind of place, like being in a James Bond movie. I felt right at home. I could be anything I wanted here. We found a table where a game of blackjack was just starting, and soon we were betting money we couldn’t afford on a game I barely understood. I was drinking vodka like it was going out of fashion, but here, in this atmosphere, I felt alive in a way I never had, and carried away on a feeling of indulgent recklessness. Charlie was lovely too, really attentive in a way none of the guys I’d ever been with had ever been before. I was enjoying the sensation so much, I let my guard down. And it felt great. ‘Hey, look over there,’ I nudged Charlie. ‘There’s a wedding couple.’ ‘So?’ said Charlie, who was looking at his hand trying to work out if he was going to make twenty-one or have to go bust. His last five dollars were riding on it. I’d had to give up a couple of hands before, as I’d run out of money. ‘Isn’t it cute?’ I said, suddenly fascinated with this couple. They seemed to represent something I never thought I’d have. ‘I bet there’s a little chapel next door where you can get hitched, just like that.’ ‘There is, honey,’ a Texan blonde with a pink rodeo hat and tasselled pink denim jacket next to me, drawled. ‘It’s called Love Me Tender, and they’ve got an Elvis impersonator who’ll marry you for a few dollars.’ ‘What a hoot,’ I said. I nudged Charlie. ‘We should do it.’ ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Charlie. ‘Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?’ I said. ‘I think marriage should be a bit more serious than that,’ said Charlie. ‘Oh, don’t be so boring,’ I said. ‘Think what fun we’ve had tonight. I like you, you like me, we’re made for each other. We should get married tonight and go home and make a little Las Vegas baby.’ I didn’t know what I was saying. I hated babies. I certainly didn’t want one now. But somehow, I felt certain of one thing. Charlie and I had connected tonight, in a way I’d never connected with anyone. We should be together. ‘You’re mad,’ said Charlie. He gave me a quizzical look, as if weighing something up. ‘Did you mean all that?’ ‘Course I did,’ I said. ‘I think you’re gorgeous.’ ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ said Charlie, ‘but it’s hardly a basis for getting married.’ ‘Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?’ I said teasingly. ‘Why, is that what you think’s happening?’ ‘Don’t you?’ I said. Charlie didn’t reply. ‘I know. If you win this game, then we get married?’ ‘All right, if I win, I promise to marry you,’ said Charlie, ‘which is absolutely fine, because I’m not going to win.’ One by one everyone stuck except Charlie. The tension was mounting. He had eighteen in his hand; the croupier asked him what he was going to do. ‘Twist,’ said Charlie. I held my breath as he turned over his hand. ‘Oh my god,’ I said. He’d turned over the three of clubs. Twenty-one. ‘I won,’ said Charlie in a dazed voice. ‘I’ve just won over two hundred dollars.’ He turned to me and hugged me tight. ‘Waahahaay!’ he said. ‘The night is young.’ ‘Go on,’ I said with more bravado than I was feeling. ‘Now you have to do it. A deal’s a deal.’ I honestly thought he’d say no. Charlie was a sweetheart, but I didn’t think he was as reckless as me, but as he counted off his winnings, he seemed to suddenly shift up a gear. ‘Well why the hell not?’ he said. ‘You only live once, and we are in Vegas.’ ‘Great,’ I said, and grabbed his arm and dragged him off with me. I tried to ignore the shadow of doubt which was telling me I was only doing this to spite Steve. Which is how just an hour later, we found ourselves in front of the Love Me Tender chapel, giggling. The door was heart shaped and the outside of the chapel was a sickly pink which reminded me of the terrible blancmanges Auntie Nora used to make when I was little and Mum was having one of her funny ‘turns’. We’d come armed with our marriage licence, which, bizarrely, in Las Vegas you could buy at any time of the night or day over the weekend, and the sun was just rising above the city, which seemed just as busy now as it had done when we’d embarked on our drinking spree all those hours earlier. I had a moment of panic then. This wasn’t how I’d planned my wedding day. I’d always pretended I didn’t want to get married, but now I was here, I could admit to myself I wanted the real deal, not this ghastly parody with a boy I barely knew. I thought of Doris with a pang. She’d be furious with me for not fulfilling her silly pact. ‘Come on then,’ Charlie grabbed my hand, and pulled me through the door. We were met by an Elvis impersonator who was apparently the official who was going to marry us. It also transpired that he was going to give me away. So I walked down the aisle to the tender strains of ‘Love Me Do’ and then in a few easily spoken words we were hitched. It felt surreal. ‘Let’s go and see the sunrise,’ said Charlie impulsively. Finding out from Elvis that the best spot for this was out of town, we took a cab out to the desert, and sat holding hands as we watched a deep, pink sunrise in a pale, turquoise sky. The rising sun cast long shadows across the desert, which glowed pink and orange as the day slowly dawned. The morning air was slightly chilly, and Charlie popped his jacket over my shoulders – in my impulsiveness, I’d come without one. Instinctively, I leant my head against his shoulder, it felt natural and right in a way I’d never felt before. It was the perfect end to a bizarre and weird evening. Charlie kissed me gently on the lips and then said, ‘Happy Wedding Day, Mrs Cosgrove. Come on, let’s go home.’ We got back to the hotel, and then shyly, I followed him up to his room. It was strange. We’d been behaving so recklessly all evening, and now I felt like a fool. I could legitimately sleep with the guy and suddenly, now I was here, it felt all wrong. In the end, we just stumbled into the room, and collapsed cuddling on the bed from exhaustion and overconsumption of alcohol. I woke at midday. The sun was streaming through the window, and Charlie was still snoring next to me. Charlie. I sat bolt upright and looked down at him, the events from the previous night flooding back with sudden and vivid clarity. Oh my god. I’d got married to a guy I barely knew. What on earth had I been thinking? How could I have been so stupid? I sat on the edge of the bed looking at him sleeping so peacefully. He truly was lovely to look at. And he was a really nice guy. But I barely knew him. And he wasn’t Steve. How the hell was I going to get out of this? We couldn’t really be married could we? The only thing I could think to do was to blag my way out of it. ‘Good morning Mrs Cosgrove,’ Charlie’s voice cut into my thoughts. ‘Oh my god,’ my voice was pure fake Hollywood. ‘I can’t believe we acted so crazy last night.’ ‘I thought it was rather fun actually,’ said Charlie. ‘But come on,’ I said. ‘Getting married was a bit way out, wasn’t it?’ ‘It doesn’t have to be, does it?’ Charlie took my hand. I felt lousy then. Maybe he actually liked me. I’d led him on atrociously. All my pent-up feelings of bitterness against Steve had led me here; this wasn’t fair on him. Best to brazen it out and pretend I couldn’t see the way he really felt. ‘Well it was an adventure, that’s for sure,’ I laughed. ‘Not many people can say they came to Las Vegas and got married and divorced in a day, can they?’ ‘You want to get divorced?’ Charlie said, angrily. ‘Make your bloody mind up.’ ‘Well don’t you?’ I said. ‘I don’t know,’ said Charlie. ‘I know it was a bit wild, but we could try and give it a go, couldn’t we?’ ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, trying not to look at him. ‘What about us being meant for each other?’ said Charlie. ‘You were the one who seemed to think it was such a good idea last night.’ ‘That was the drink talking,’ I said, trying to joke my way out of things. ‘Gee, thanks,’ said Charlie. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. But come on,’ I said. ‘Us staying married would be terrible. We hardly know each other. It’s never going to work.’ ‘You really think so?’ said Charlie. ‘I do,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, I was really drunk last night, and things got out of hand. Believe me, I’m really bad news for you, you’ll be grateful to me in the end.’ I couldn’t look at him. I felt so guilty, and he looked so forlorn I couldn’t believe he was taking it so seriously. I’d had him taped last night as being as wild as I was. Surely he could see this was just a prank that had gone badly wrong? ‘You mean it, don’t you?’ ‘Yes I do. Us staying married is a really, really bad idea,’ I said. ‘The worst,’ said Charlie tonelessly. ‘So that’s it,’ I said brightly. ‘If it’s that easy to get married here, I bet it’s a cinch to get divorced.’ I didn’t look at him when I said this. I pretended it was all OK. But not for the first time, I felt really lousy. The nicest bloke I’d met in ages, and I’d stuffed it up big time. Chapter Five (#ulink_4467897e-8e09-5544-9f71-68167cd9139c) Beth ‘Nervous?’ Matt held my hand as we sat in the waiting room, on a warm spring day in the middle of April, at the fertility clinic we’d been referred to by our GP, Dr McGrath. My hand felt clammy and sweaty, and my heart was thumping like a railway train. I knew it was my fault we hadn’t conceived. Matt’s tests had come back all clear, and mine were inconclusive. I couldn’t help the nagging feeling that it was my body telling me it was my fault that we couldn’t have babies. Luckily, I’d explained the situation to Dr McGrath. She’d been very understanding, and said that I still might have a chance, and I shouldn’t beat myself up about it. But I knew. I was being punished for what I’d done, all those years ago. And Matt didn’t know. I’d never told him, because when we met it didn’t seem important, and now I didn’t know how to. ‘Mr and Mrs Davies?’ A smiling nurse ushered us into the consultant’s office. I sat in silent terror waiting for him to tell us that I had destroyed our chances, thanks to a careless moment with someone unworthy to tie Matt’s shoelace. In my panic I zoned out what he was saying, concentrating on the lines in the floor, trying to ignore the pounding in my head which was saying over and over again, This is when you get found out, this is when you get found out. I felt sick and hot and dizzy, I wanted so much to be somewhere else. ‘Beth, are you OK?’ Matt’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. ‘Fine,’ I said, and blinked. ‘It’s a bit hot in here. Sorry, what were you saying?’ ‘I was just explaining that looking at your test results, I think you two have a really good chance of getting pregnant if we go down the IVF route,’ said Mr O’Brian, an avuncular kind of man who seemed to be almost as desperate as we were for us to conceive. ‘You do?’ I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Was it that easy? No mention at all of my previous gynaecological history and how it might impact on my chances? Just an explanation that I’d need to take fertility drugs, and then come back and have some eggs taken? I thanked the stars for Dr McGrath’s discretion. ‘Of course, it might not work,’ he added. ‘You do have to be prepared for that.’ ‘Of course,’ we agreed, but hope is such a bloody awful little emotion, I knew we were both thinking the same thing. It’s not hopeless. We’re not hopeless. We can still do this. And for the first time I allowed myself an extra little thought: Maybe my past doesn’t matter after all. ‘Coffee to celebrate?’ Matt said to me as we left the hospital. We were both so excited we were practically flying. I was too dizzy to hear all the facts and figures, but the consultant felt we had a better chance than most of conceiving – everything was in good working order according to him. We just needed a little help. ‘I shouldn’t be drinking coffee now, should I?’ I said. ‘But I’ll have a juice with you.’ We found our way to a little coffee bar on the High Street and sat back, enjoying the feelings of elation washing over us. We’d had so much disappointment over the last few years, and even though I knew the road ahead was going to be tough, and there were no guarantees, I wanted to enjoy this feeling. It had been a long time since I’d felt this hopeful about anything. ‘To us,’ said Matt, raising his cup of coffee against my orange juice. ‘To us,’ I said, ‘and to Foetus.’ We hardly dared to talk about the possibility of a real baby any more. Matt leant over, and gently touched my stomach. ‘To Foetus,’ he said. ‘You know, I’ve got a really good feeling about this.’ I arrived at my desk a couple of hours later. I’d booked the morning off, claiming the dentist. I hadn’t told anyone at work about Plan Foetus as we’d taken to calling it. Hell, I hadn’t even told Doris and Sarah, though I’m sure they’d both guessed. They’d seen how broody I was when they were both pregnant. I couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy, particularly when Sarah had had her second baby. Although I knew she’d had problems with sickness and things, she made it look so easy. Sarah seemed to be able to conceive at the drop of a hat, it didn’t seem fair. I couldn’t bear to let Sarah know how jealous I was, so I pretended to be nonchalant about having children. I’d been making out for ages that my career came first. To be honest, that was true for a while. When I first met Matt, babies didn’t come into the picture. We were just so happy to be together, and I kept pinching myself that after kissing all those toads, I’d finally found my handsome prince. I didn’t want to spoil it with the patter of tiny feet. I assumed, you see, that Matt would be like all the other guys, and run at the first mention of babies. And having finally lost weight after years of dieting, I wasn’t too keen to put it all back on again. There was always the nagging doubt that Matt would only fancy me slim. I should have known better of course: he was the one who brought the subject of babies up, and when I mentioned my weight, he just laughed me to scorn and said he’d love me however fat I got. Today, for the first time in a long time, I felt the same dizzying intoxication that I’d felt when we’d started to plan our family. A crack of light was shining in the dark – it wasn’t much, but it was something to hold on to. ‘You seem very happy today,’ Mel our receptionist said as I sailed jauntily past her, whistling. I never ever whistle. ‘Well, spring is in the air, and all that jazz,’ I said, which is uncharacteristically chatty of me. Usually I barely say anything to Mel or anyone else at work unless I have to. It’s the only way I can keep a tight lid on the things threatening to explode out of my head. I breezed to my desk and sat down and started ploughing through my invoice tray. I love my work in credit control. It’s not to everyone’s taste, but I enjoy the balancing act of chasing down debtors and holding off creditors, thereby ensuring that no one ever owes us money, but we invariably owe other people money. I was so engrossed in my work, I tuned out the sound of my mobile ringing in my handbag for a minute. I don’t often get personal phone calls at work. Matt’s generally the only person to ring me during the day. I rooted around in my bag and eventually found the phone, which had inevitably wormed its way to the bottom of my bag. As I picked it up, the phone went dead. Typical. I flicked onto missed calls. It wasn’t a number I recognized. I rang it back. ‘Hi,’ I said tentatively, ‘I think you just called me?’ ‘Beth?’ I was shocked to hear Caz’s voice. I hadn’t seen her since Doris’s hen weekend, over a fortnight earlier. I didn’t even know she had my number. ‘I hope you don’t mind, I cadged your number off Doris.’ Caz sounded different. Uncertain. Awkward. Most un-Cazlike. ‘Only, I was wondering – if you’d – well, would you mind meeting up for a drink sometime?’ I was stunned. OK, we’d had a nice time when we were away, but still. I hadn’t spent any time alone with Caz for at least five years. Why would she suddenly want to talk to me now? ‘Look, I’ll understand if you say no,’ Caz continued. ‘It’s just that it was so nice meeting you again in Paris. I’d like to catch up properly if you’d like.’ She sounded so tentative and unsure, something crumbled inside me. I had a sudden flashback to the way she was at primary school, just when we’d all started to be friends. Caz was always angry and spoiling for a fight, but we grew to realize that that aggression hid a vulnerability that wasn’t on public display. But now she’d been defensive with us all for so long, I’d forgotten how vulnerable she was underneath. I took a deep breath. ‘Of course, that would be great,’ I said. ‘When are you free?’ ‘This feels…odd,’ Caz said as she faced me over a glass of spritzer in a bar in Soho. Caz always went drinking in Soho, I remembered. I never did. If I drank anywhere it was in a pub round the corner from work in Camden High Street before taking the Northern Line home. I rarely ventured into the West End these days. ‘You’re not drinking?’ Caz said, glancing significantly at my orange juice. ‘I always leave my car at the station,’ I fibbed. There was never anywhere to park at the station, but I was relying on Caz’s ignorance about life in the suburbs for her not to have guessed that. I was hazarding a guess that Caz still lived as close to town as she could. She always was a bright-lights, big-city kind of girl, unlike stay-at-home small-town me. Last I’d heard, she had a flat Islington way, which always seemed glamorous to me. ‘So, how are things?’ Caz said. ‘I mean, I know we chatted that weekend, but it wasn’t like we did much one to one stuff. Tell me about yourself.’ ‘Not much to tell,’ I said. ‘I like my job. Matt and I are happy. We live a quiet life. You know me. Never one for a wild time.’ ‘Matt well?’ ‘He’s great.’ I felt myself relax as I got onto my favourite topic, the general wonderfulness of my gorgeous husband, and my extraordinary luck in catching him. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s kind and he’s witty and he’s caring’ – and he’s never once made me feel bad about not getting pregnant – ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s my best friend and husband and lover all rolled into one.’ I paused. ‘Sorry, I do go on about him. Pathetic really. But I still feel like a love-struck teenager.’ ‘No, I think it’s great,’ said Caz. ‘I’ve made such a mess with all that stuff. I’m glad one of us has had a happy ending.’ ‘Two of us,’ I said. ‘You couldn’t get more loved up than Daz and Dorrie.’ ‘I’m so glad,’ said Caz. ‘I can’t think why it’s taken them so long to get hitched. I’d have had Dorrie down for becoming Mrs Maitland years ago.’ ‘She hasn’t said much about it, but I think it was because of her dad,’ I said. ‘She always wanted him to walk her down the aisle, and when he couldn’t, I don’t think she could bear it. Then when he died she went into a bit of a decline really. She seemed very low and her mum is worse. We were all really worried about her for a while. I think the only thing that pulled her out of it has been Woody.’ ‘I feel so bad about Dorrie’s dad,’ said Caz. ‘I wish I’d known how bad it was. It’s not just my relationships with men that I’ve cocked up. I’ve made a mess of everything.’ She looked incredibly sad and I felt an unusual feeling of pity for her. I can’t remember ever feeling that about Caz before: frustration, fury, anger, yes. Pity? No. Caz wasn’t someone you pitied. ‘It’s never too late to make amends,’ I said, leaning over and touching her hand. ‘I mean, we’ve met up, and Dorrie did invite you to her hen weekend. You know what she’s like. I’m sure she doesn’t hold it against you.’ ‘That’s another reason I called, actually,’ said Caz. ‘I had an ulterior motive. I felt terrible hearing Doris say she didn’t want any bridesmaids. Things didn’t work out the way we planned when we were kids, and I’m sure she’d still love them to.’ ‘Knowing Doris, I’m sure you’re right,’ I agreed. I had felt Doris had been pretty sad about the bridesmaid thing from the minute she’d announced her engagement. ‘So, how do you fancy trying to sort it out?’ Caz leaned forward, eyes shining. ‘I mean, I know there’s the slight difficulty of Sarah to contend with – I mean she hates me, right?’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘hate’s a pretty strong word, but yup, you could say you’re not her favourite person.’ ‘But, how about we try to sort out our differences enough for us to give Doris the wedding she deserves?’ ‘What do you mean?’ I said. ‘Eighteen years ago we made a vow. And we’ve failed dismally to keep it so far,’ said Caz. ‘So I think for Doris’s sake, it’s time we actually fulfilled the Bridesmaid Pact.’ Chapter Six (#ulink_f01e8586-3a51-54ab-8d79-feea833dd409) Sarah ‘Good day at work?’ Steve wandered in to the kitchen where I was wrestling with the grill pan which had mysteriously got so filthy it had burst into flames when I’d grilled sausages for the boys’ tea. William had been so terrified it had taken me about half an hour to calm him down, while his older brother Sam had laughed him to scorn. Sam was a budding pyromaniac and I was slightly concerned he might have picked up a tip or two. William was watching TV in the den – it made me smile to think that as an adult I had managed to gain a den, when, thanks to Dorrie, I craved one so much as a child; ironic how little happiness it now gave me – and Sam was struggling with homework involving him writing sentences about going to the park. ‘So-so,’ said Steve. He gave me a perfunctory peck on the cheek. It was an action quite without affection, but he always kissed me when he came in the door. He smelt of booze. Great. He’d obviously been having another ‘business’ lunch. Lord knows what business they actually did at those lunches. It never ceased to amaze me how Steve kept down his job as a financial advisor. But he was a smooth operator, and even in these dicey financial times, he always seemed to come up smelling of roses. ‘What’s for tea?’ he asked, going to the fridge and opening a can of beer. ‘Sorry, I haven’t got there yet,’ I said. I’d barely sat down since picking the kids up from school. We’d rushed straight to the swimming pool after school, then I’d called in on Steve’s mum who’d been in her usual panic about unpaid bills. When Steve’s dad was alive he’d dealt with all the paperwork, and even though he’d been dead for five years now, Maggie still couldn’t get to grips with it. While I was there she’d let slip something that had un settled me rather. ‘Did you have a nice time when you were away, dear?’ she said, once I’d established that she didn’t need to write a cheque for her council tax as she paid it by direct debit, and her gas wasn’t going to get cut off because she was a week late paying her bill. I hadn’t seen Maggie since before going to Euro Disney three weeks earlier, as Steve and I had booked a week in Center Parcs with the kids over the Easter holidays. I wondered afterwards why we’d gone. The boys had had a great time, but Steve barely spoke to me for the whole time we were away. ‘Yes it was great, thanks,’ I said. ‘And Steve did a brilliant job with the kids. I couldn’t believe how tidy the house was when I got back.’ ‘Well, they weren’t there that much of course,’ said Maggie. ‘They came to me for their tea on Saturday, and of course, they were out all day on Sunday.’ ‘Oh?’ I said. Odd. The kids hadn’t said anything about going out for the day, nor about having tea at Maggie’s. ‘That’s nice, guys. Did Daddy take you on a treat?’ ‘We went to the zoo and I had an ice cream and saw a gorilla,’ said William proudly. ‘Shhh!’ Sam furiously dug William in the ribs. ‘You know you weren’t supposed to say anything about that.’ ‘Why not?’ My heart lurched suddenly. Why was Steve keeping secrets from me, and getting the kids to lie? ‘We met Daddy’s friend and he said you wouldn’t like it,’ said William. ‘I bet he did,’ I said grimly. This was it, the moment that I’d been dreading for months. I’d suspected Steve was cheating on me again, but he’d laughed at my suspicions. Now I knew he was definitely up to something fishy. But getting the kids to lie to me. That was below the belt, even for Steve. ‘Oh dear,’ Maggie flapped about looking uncomfortable. ‘Have I said something I shouldn’t?’ Maggie had many faults, not least her inability to manage her domestic affairs without our help, but she was pretty astute about her son. I’d never told her Steve had cheated on me, but from things she’d said over the years, I was pretty sure she knew. ‘No, of course not, Maggie,’ I smoothed things over, my speciality that. ‘Steve must have forgotten to mention it.’ And now, here I was, watching my errant husband fill himself up on beer, and wondering how on earth I was going to mention the elephant in the room. Because I was sick of his lies, and his promises to do better, and his insistence that if he strayed it was somehow my fault. I’d stuck with him for so long because of the kids, but now he was making them deceive me. I’d been a doormat long enough. Time to stand up for myself. ‘You didn’t mention you’d taken the kids to the zoo,’ I said casually, once the boys were in bed, and Steve was flopped out in front of the football. ‘So?’ Steve lied so flippantly and easily. ‘I forgot. It’s not a crime.’ ‘No-o,’ I said, ‘I just thought you might have mentioned it.’ ‘Well, I didn’t,’ Steve sounded bored. God, had he always been so bored of me? ‘Who was your friend?’ I knew my voice had come out reedy and tinny, but I couldn’t help myself. I hated the way Steve made me sound like a nagging wife. It was so bloody demeaning. ‘I knew you’d be like this,’ said Steve, turning on the offensive. A typical tactic to try and make me appear in the wrong. I wasn’t standing for it this time. I was going to have it out with him, whatever the consequences. ‘Like what?’ Trying to keep my voice calm and level. Trying not to rise to his bait. ‘Accusatory. Jealous. Idiotically accusing me of stuff.’ ‘I haven’t actually accused you of anything,’ I said, in what I felt to be a perfectly reasonable manner. ‘Should I have?’ ‘How could you say that?’ He had the cheek to sound hurt. As if he’d done nothing wrong. ‘Well, let me see. There was Stacey in accounts, and Dannii from sales, and Petra from export. Not to mention what did or didn’t go on with my best friend. Why on earth should I imagine in any shape or form you are at all trustworthy?’ ‘Why rake up old stuff?’ said Steve. ‘You know I love you, babe.’ ‘Do I? Do I really?’ I said. This is the way it always went, but I was tired, tired of always being second best, and tired of his lies. ‘I know I don’t show it enough,’ Steve said, taking my hand, ‘but seriously you’re the only one that matters to me.’ ‘So who did you go to the zoo with?’ I said. I didn’t want to look in his eyes. I didn’t want him to seduce me with his weasel words. ‘Come on, I want to know.’ ‘It was Kirsty,’ he muttered. ‘Kirsty, as in your secretary Kirsty?’ That figured. She was a buxom blonde, Steve’s normal type (Caz was clearly some kind of wild aberration). I’d had her taped as a potential rival when I met her at the Christmas party. ‘When she heard you were away, she offered to help,’ said Steve. ‘You should be grateful. She was great with the kids.’ ‘I bet,’ I said dryly. ‘So why the big secret?’ ‘Because I knew you’d react like this,’ said Steve. He snuggled up to me and I felt my body weakly respond. ‘I know I’ve been a bad boy in the past, but that really is behind me. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize us. I don’t want to hurt you.’ He looked at me with those big, puppy pleading eyes. He was so damned plausible. So difficult to resist. I almost believed him. Almost. I just couldn’t rid myself of the lingering doubt that he was lying to me, again. I just couldn’t trust him. ‘If you say so,’ I said, and responded stiffly to his embrace. I had no proof that he was cheating. Just a gut feeling. And it didn’t feel good. ‘So you let him get away with it again?’ I was round at Dorrie’s, having our weekly coffee together. It was a habit I’d got into since Dorrie had stopped work. She’d gone back to her job doing something fantastically clever in biochemistry for her obligatory three months but then decided to stay at home with Woody. Of course, Dorrie being very sociable, she found being at home incredibly isolating, and for a while had seemed quite low, so Beth and I had made it our mission to try and keep her cheerful. Somehow the world didn’t seem right when Doris was down in the dumps. ‘I suppose so,’ I said. ‘I wanted to really have it out with him, but I can’t prove anything. Besides, there’s a bit of me that just doesn’t want to know.’ ‘Coward,’ said Dorrie. ‘You know you’re too good for him.’ ‘That’s what Joe always says,’ I said. Steve’s younger brother, Joe, was a frequent visitor to our house, often stepping in to help out with the boys, when Steve was on one of his many business trips away. Of late he’d even been taking them to football for me on a Saturday. I didn’t know what I’d do without his steady, unwavering support. Dorrie looked at me slightly askance, eyes narrowed. ‘Do you ever wonder if you married the wrong brother?’ ‘No! No! That’s ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I mean, I like Joe. He’s always been really good to me. But he’s Steve’s brother. I couldn’t even begin to think about it. It wouldn’t be right.’ ‘Hmm,’ said Dorrie, clearly not believing me, and of course, being right not to. I’d always been fond of Joe, and he was a great help, the kids absolutely loved him. There were times, it’s true, when I’d idly wondered how it would have been if I’d married Joe and not Steve. I was pretty sure Joe wouldn’t have cheated on me. I shook my head. This was ridiculous. Joe was my brother-in-law. And I was in love with Steve. ‘Right, what do you want me to help you with today?’ I changed the subject. Another reason for our weekly meets was to help Doris plan the wedding. Her mum was away with the fairies more often than not these days, and not much help. I rather suspected her of being depressed, but Dorrie had never talked about it, and it wasn’t my business. For some reason, though she was open about everything else, Dorrie kept a tight lid on what was happening in her family. When her dad was still alive she barely mentioned the problems he was having, and yet it must have been incredibly tough. ‘I’ve just found these great little bags for party favours on Freecycle,’ said Doris. She and Darren could probably have afforded to make a big splash, but Dorrie reckoned they needed the money for more important things, namely Woody and any siblings he might have. So she’d set her heart on having a stylish wedding at as little cost as possible. Well, if you can call a Disney theme stylish, I suppose. The way she was going, she was making Posh and Becks’ wedding look positively restrained. ‘Do you mean these?’ I fell about laughing as I picked up a box full of little net pink and blue bags with a drawstring on them. They had stars and the letter D embroidered on them. ‘What’s wrong with them?’ said Doris. ‘I think they’re cute.’ ‘Nothing,’ I said. She really meant it, bless her. ‘Did you decide on the shoes in the end?’ Last week Doris had put in two bids on eBay for satin court shoes. One pair was in baby blue, which would match the Cinderella-style blue wedding dress which she’d got second hand from a fancy-dress shop, the other was a more traditional cream to match the other Cinderella dress which she’d got on eBay. She hadn’t decided yet which colour to go for on the day. I preferred the cream, but I knew Doris was determined to get the blue. ‘Come upstairs and I’ll show you,’ Doris said, ‘but we’ll have to be quiet as Woody’s still having his nap.’ She led me into her spare room, which had a big notice on saying: DAZ KEEP OUT! Important wedding stuff not to be seen before the big day. The room was jammed from floor to ceiling with wedding paraphernalia. ‘My god, how much stuff have you got?’ I gasped. ‘Ever since I put that ad on Freecycle, people keep sending me things,’ said Dorrie. ‘Now where did I put them?’ She rooted around in a corner of the room. There was so much junk in there, I couldn’t believe she could ever find anything. ‘Ah, here they are!’ She waved a pair of shoes triumphantly under my nose. ‘So you went with the blue ones, then?’ I said. ‘I knew you would.’ ‘Sorry, I know you liked the cream,’ Dorrie said, ‘but I just couldn’t resist them. Just look at these fabulous bows. Aren’t they pretty?’ ‘They’re very you,’ I said diplomatically. If anyone could carry those shoes off, it would be Doris. ‘I might still get the cream anyway,’ said Doris. ‘I’m torn between that lovely white dress with the pink roses, and the blue dress.’ ‘White would be more traditional,’ I said. ‘I know,’ said Dorrie. ‘I’m greedy, I guess. I love them both.’ She looked round the room. ‘I really must sort some of this stuff out, it’s getting a bit bonkers in here. I just don’t have the energy.’ ‘Well you do have a very young baby,’ I pointed out. ‘Tell me about it,’ said Dorrie, rubbing her eyes. ‘Woody’s molars kept me up most of the night. I just feel so tired all the time though. Is that normal?’ ‘With a small person in your life?’ I laughed. ‘Absolutely. Is there anything you want me to do?’ I peered at her closely. Dorrie did look tired, as if she’d lost her sparkle somehow. The combination of motherhood and wedding stress must be getting to her. Doris looked at the room again, and then said, ‘Naah. I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s go and have a cup of tea instead. I’ve made muffins.’ Amazingly, despite her ability to always produce cake at the drop of a hat, Doris never seems to put on any weight. I envied her that. ‘You still off the sugar?’ Dorrie asked as she poured the water out of the kettle. ‘As part of my calorie-controlled diet,’ I said solemnly. ‘Of course muffins don’t count—’ Doris gave a sudden scream as she dropped the kettle. ‘Oh my god, I am such a damned klutz sometimes,’ she said, rushing to the cold tap and shoving her hand underneath it. ‘Is it a bad burn?’ I rushed over to have a look at it. Once a nurse, always a nurse, even if I haven’t been near a patient since Sam was born. ‘No, it’s fine.’ Doris showed me a slight pinkish tinge on her arm. ‘Luckily most of it went on the floor.’ ‘Well, no harm done,’ I said. ‘It’s usually Beth who’s the clumsy one.’ ‘I must be catching it off her,’ said Doris. ‘I’m all fingers and thumbs today.’ As she said this I noticed her hand was shaking, and she looked a little tearful. ‘Dorrie, are you OK?’ I said. ‘Yes, fine,’ said Dorrie. ‘I’m just overtired is all. Now come on, let’s tuck into those muffins and then you can help me decide about place settings.’ ‘So long as you don’t give us all paper plates with Cinderella on them,’ I said. Doris looked a little shamefaced. ‘You haven’t?’ ‘Well, they were half price in Wilkinson’s,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t resist. But that’s not the only option, we could have Beauty and the Beast ones instead.’ ‘You are totally off your trolley,’ I said laughing, looking at my friend with affection. But I couldn’t help wondering if underneath her laughter, she was hiding something from me. Chapter Seven (#ulink_12155544-d24e-5d15-a120-61bdcdd83757) Doris I heard Darren’s key in the door with relief. It was the Friday after I’d seen Sarah, and I’d had a really hard day with Woody, who’d started throwing up in the night and pretty much carried on the whole day. In between clearing up vomit, I’d spent most of the day with him clinging to my shoulder like a limpet. Woody wasn’t normally clingy and it was horrible seeing his smiley face so miserable and wan. It was the first time since he’d been born that he’d been ill, and I didn’t know what to do. If Mum were only a bit more with it, I could have got her advice, but when I expressed concern that Woody wasn’t getting enough fluids, she just said vaguely, ‘Oh, all babies get sick. But they bounce back. He’ll be better tomorrow, you’ll see.’ By mid-afternoon when it was apparent that Woody wasn’t able to tolerate any food or drink at all, I rang Sarah, who calmly prescribed small sips of water, and Dioralyte, but suggested taking him to the doctor if it got any worse. I knew she was right, but ever since Dad got ill I’d had a pathological hatred of the medical profession. I wouldn’t take him unless I absolutely had to. Luckily, Woody, clearly exhausted by his day’s activities, took that moment to decide to crash out. At least if he was sleeping he wasn’t being sick, so we cuddled up on the sofa together and I watched crap TV and waited for Darren to get in. I was shattered. I couldn’t believe that one little person could create so much work and worry. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything hurting him, and I hated seeing him so ill. ‘Hi,’ said Darren as he came through the door, as ever having performed his daily ritual of hand washing (to get rid of all those nasty germs from travelling by tube, you understand). ‘How is he?’ I’d been keeping Darren posted as to Woody’s condition, and he’d managed to sneak away from work early. Like me, Darren had melted the minute that Woody had come into his life, and we were both like a pair of pathetically anxious clucking hens around him. ‘He seems OK at the moment,’ I said. ‘He’s been asleep for ages though and he feels a bit hot.’ ‘When did you last give him Calpol?’ said Darren. ‘Just before he went to sleep,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure how effective it’s been, he’s thrown up nearly every dose I’ve given him today.’ Woody stirred in my arms, and gave a slight moan, before wriggling awake. He looked blearily up at his dad. ‘Here, let me take him,’ said Darren, picking up our son and holding him close. ‘I think you’ll want this,’ I said, proffering a muslin. Too late, Woody had chucked up all over Darren’s back. ‘Oh shit, shit,’ said Darren. ‘He’s contaminated me.’ ‘Darren, he’s probably contaminated me,’ I said laughing. ‘I’ve been clearing this up most of the day. Just wait there and I’ll sort you both out.’ Five minutes later, having persuaded Darren that it really wasn’t going to be necessary to burn his jacket, and cleaned both of them up, I took a decision. Woody was no better. Much as I hated it, I was going to have to take him to see the doctor. The waiting room was crowded. It was nearly the end of surgery hours and there were still plenty of people to see. The doctor’s receptionist had squeezed us in as a favour and I felt slightly stupid that I hadn’t taken Woody before. He lay pale and listless in my arms. He clearly wasn’t well. I should have done something sooner. When Woody’s name was finally called, I felt a mixture of anxiety and relief. Maybe the doctor would take one look at him and say there was nothing to worry about. Darren squeezed my hand as we went in. ‘He’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘Hi,’ said Dr Linley, as we sat down. ‘What seems to be the problem?’ ‘Woody keeps being sick,’ I explained, ‘he can’t keep anything down, and now he’s gone all listless and floppy.’ ‘Right, and this has been going on how long?’ she said, as she proceeded to examine him. ‘Since last night,’ I said. ‘I just thought it was a bug and he’d get over it. But it seems to be getting worse.’ Right on cue, Woody threw up again. Poor little mite, it wasn’t even as if he had much to throw up. Darren was, as usual, prepared with antibacterial spray, wipes and plastic gloves and went into clean-up mode, while the doctor was explaining that Woody might need to go into hospital to have some fluids. Hospital? My baby in hospital? That had simply never occurred to me. The last time I’d been in our local hospital had been to see Dad all connected up to drips and wires. I’d vowed I never wanted to set foot in there again, which is why I had elected to have Woody at home. ‘Oh,’ was all I could manage to say, feeling helpless, while Darren took charge and asked all the right questions, like how serious was it, and how long did she think he’d stay there. It was as if I was cocooned in a great bubble of silence, I could barely register what the doctor was saying, while Darren picked Woody out of my arms, and motioned me to get up. ‘I’ll ring ahead for you,’ I heard, as if in a dream, and she pressed an envelope into my hand, and said, ‘Take this with you.’ Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/julia-williams/the-bridesmaid-pact/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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